


One Good Day

by dead_not_sleeping



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Instability, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dead_not_sleeping/pseuds/dead_not_sleeping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world survived WWIII, and Dean Winchester brought about the end of the war with information garnered from his undercover assignment as a play thing to the enemies general, Alastair.  Dean is left a broken man, both in mind and body and though his government wants to abandon him, his commanding officer, Castiel Novak refuses to do so.  Moving them onto his family's farm in the middle of no where, Castiel takes it one day at a time, some days are bad, some are okay, and then, every once in a while, there is one good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Good Day

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this makes reference to a gang-bang/rape by both the men on Dean and Cas' side and Alastair, but there isn't any graphic descriptions, though there is a blurb about it when Cas finally finds Dean, be warned. Dean is messed up, I mean really messed up and Cas has infinite patience with him, lucky for him. There is no romance between them, Dean is too messed up, but there is a hint that there could be. This came about due to a prompt on the spnkinkmeme, asking for this scenario, but an emphasis on the care of Dean, rather than the rape of him. It was prompted as a Jeff/Jensen, but I feel funny writing about real people. Sam is here, but he's not happy that Cas is keeping Dean at his house instead of a facility that he believes he should be in, getting the help 'he needs'.

Castiel wakes to the quiet of his bedroom and it takes him a moment to realize he is alone. Turning his head to the left, the other side of the bed is empty, though Dean had slept there last night.

“Dean?” he calls, looking around the mostly dark room, the sun just starting to peek in through the windows, and he finds it empty. He turns towards the en-suite but he can see that the door is open and the room is dark. “Dean?” he calls again and moves to get out of bed when the door to the bedroom opens and Dean is standing there wearing one of Castiel's shirts and holding a tray of food.

“I made breakfast,” he says with a shrug, causing the shirt to fall off of his left shoulder and he moves into the room. Castiel's mouth goes dry as he watches the shirt expose his neck and collarbone as Dean moves to him and places the tray over his lap, looking up at him through his lashes.

“Thank you,” Castiel says pulling his eyes away from the other man and looks down at the tray; it has scrambled eggs, toast, pancakes and sausage with jam and syrup on the side.

“Oh,” Dean says snapping his fingers, “I forgot your orange juice,” he says and is gone for a moment before returning with two large glasses of orange juice.

“What is the occasion?” Castiel asks, taking a bite of eggs and watches the other man who is sitting at the end of the bed sipping at his drink and Dean shrugs.

“No special occasion, just wanted to do something nice,” he replies and looks down at the bedspread.

“This is nice, thank you,” Castiel replies and grins at the smile he receives in return.

Once done, they clean the kitchen together, make their way outside and collect the eggs from their chickens, feed the cows and horses and get fresh milk. They live on twenty acres of land far away from civilization, or what is left of it anyway. The property is surrounded by a high electrified fence, making anyone who would want to bother them uninvited, think twice.

Later Dean is watching an old movie and eating lunch when Castiel's communicator chirps and he pulls it out and looks at the name.

“Yeah,” he says bringing it to his ear and stepping away not to disturb the other man.

“Hey Castiel, how are you?” Sam Dean's younger brother, says over the line and Castiel sighs, Sam does not approve of Castiel keeping Dean with him and though Castiel wishes he could chase the other man off for good, he wouldn't do that to Dean.

“What do you want Sam?” he demands impatiently, wanting to get back to the man on the couch.

“How's Dean?” Sam asks and Castiel's jaw clenches.

“He's fine, what do you want?”

“Have you thought more about what I said?” the other man asks and Castiel bites his tongue to hold back the anger at the other man.

“I have, and I won't do it,” he says through clenched teeth, wondering how the other man can call himself Dean's brother when all he wants to do is lock him away in a nut house.

“Castiel, we have to think about his well being,” Sam tries to reason and Castiel snarl’s over the line cutting the other man off as he takes another deep breath.

“I am thinking about his well being,” he says through clenched teeth, “do you want to know what he's doing right now? He's sitting on the couch, watching a movie, laughing at the stupid jokes. Do you know what he did this morning? He made me breakfast in bed, all on his own, his decision, I didn't ask him to.”

“He's back?” Sam asks quietly and Castiel shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder at the younger man who is still engrossed in the movie, a big grin on his face.

“For now, at least, so I'm not going to waste this time arguing with you,” he says and ends the communication.

Castiel turns and leans against the door way that leads into the living room where Dean is, marveling at the happy expression on the other man's face. It's rare to see Dean like this, so open and happy, not stuck in his head where he usually is. 

Dean has good days like today, rare as they are, where he's engaging and will talk, but they are few and far between and Castiel cherishes them. He usually has okay days, where he is cognizant, but is tormented by the demons in his head, shy and skittish, even around Castiel who he trusts. Those days are hard, he doesn't meet Castiel's eyes on those days and usually sticks to his room, eats very little and says nothing.

Then there are the bad days, and Castiel hates those the most, they are rare, even more rare than the good days now, thankfully, but they scare Castiel the most. Those days Dean is so far into his head, reliving the hell he went through that he doesn't move or speak, barely breathes and stares straight ahead, barely blinking.  


It's been two years since the war ended, but for Dean he relives it every day, he relives the horror of sleeping with one of the top rebels for almost a year, a sadistic man named Alastair that used and abused him and then being attacked by his own people. 

It had taken Castiel and his men nearly three days to get to the heart of the rebel base where he took delight in killing Alastair, six days after he had received the information from Dean that would bring about the end of the war. He didn't find Dean until he made his way to where they were holding their prisoners of war, a room made of cement walls and metal cages. Cages filled with men who had been caught by the rebels, the men on Castiel and Dean's side of the war. In the largest, he found Dean surrounded by men, being raped by two of them. It had been a fight to get to him, the men standing around, waiting their turn fought back until they realized they were on the same side. Castiel and his men and torn the two men away from Dean, it had taken everything in Castiel's willpower not to kill them then and there.

Castiel can't imagine what Dean went through, he knows he was tortured for at least four days with Alastair, after he realized what Dean was doing. When he was done, Dean was thrown to those men who used him, ignoring his protests and begging for understanding for at least the last two days before Castiel and the others rescued him. The six days he it took for Castiel to reach him had been hell for the younger man, and those who had been in the cage with Dean had only received a slap on the wrist where Dean was still suffering. 

As his men explained who exactly Dean was to the men who had taken turns with his body, Castiel had checked on Dean and found something that scared him. There was no light in the other mans eyes, they were dead and he was nearly comatose in his arms. He was breathing, barely and had a weak but steady pulse, but it was like there was a light on but no one was home.

He had carried Dean out in his arms, not sparing the men in the cage another look, badly wanting to lock them inside and never let them out again he was so furious. They got him back to one of the last standing hospitals in the country, but it was so overrun, it had taken a day for Dean to be seen. The doctor had taken his vitals, said a rape kit didn't need to performed, considering the circumstances and declared he had extreme PTSD before sweeping out again to attend other patients.

They had wanted to lock him away, put him behind padded walls and let him rot, but Castiel wouldn't hear of it. Dean had been one of his best men in the elite squad Castiel led, and he had been very reluctant to let him go undercover for information in the first place. In the end he had been overruled, and now he was a hero for God's sake, his information had brought an end to the war, but the brass wouldn't hear of it. 

How could they parade a comatose man in front of the public, a man who didn't respond to any stimulation, he would creep the people out with his blank stare, make them uncomfortable they said. The real heroes, the brass went on, were Castiel and his men, excluding Dean of course, those who had brought down the rebels, killed their leader, a man that called himself Lucifer and wanted to parade them out, but they refused. Dean had been one of their own, they weren't going to let the brass forget that, so the brass found another squad willing to take the credit.

Castiel left he service right after he received his medal, nothing special, something everyone in the service received at the end and moved here to his family's farm and when they had planned to move Dean to a facility, had brought him as well. The mental scars that remained were deep and though the physical scars had mostly faded, his mind wouldn't let him forget and Castiel needed to save him if he could.

It had been a long and arduous road, it had taken him nearly three months to get Dean to respond in some form, he was still functioning, could feed and bathe himself, but didn't speak and stared for hours. It took him another two months for Dean to recognize Castiel and not flinch when he walked into the room. 

When he had his first good day, almost a year later, Castiel nearly wept when he woke up that morning and instead of weary acceptance of his presence, Dean had smiled at him and greeted him by name.

Dean had no family, other than his brother, his mother had died when he was a child and his father had died during the war. Outside his brother, he did have his squad, a rag-tag group, most of them young but efficient in their black marked missions and they became family. That didn't stop them from abandoning Dean when he needed them the most in the end and Castiel was disgusted with them. He understood in a way, they had to move on, they had to make their lives what they could with the world having to rebuild itself. With Castiel leaving the service, those who had stayed had been reassigned, but most followed his lead and left. His team of elite soldiers had been disbanded and those who stayed found themselves bored because there was no use for their skills any longer. He hadn't heard from most of them in several months, he had become tired of them trying to tell him what to do with Dean and let them know it. Most stopped trying to reach out to him at all after a while.

Sam had been the last to try to talk Castiel into putting Dean in a home, it was hard for him to see Dean like this, flinching away from them and thought that a facility would help. Castiel knew though, with Dean's increase in good days that the younger man wasn't going anywhere. Taking him to a place where he would be a forgotten patient, that once fought for his country, like thousands of others, would only set him back so he was staying where he was.

If there was a god, Castiel thanked him for the good days and the nights that Dean didn't wake up screaming from nightmares, for those mornings when he woke up to find Dean in his bed. It wasn't sexual, he was attracted to the younger man of course, but he would never try anything. Ever. Not when Dean still flinched from him; if anything did happen, Dean would have to initiate it, and Castiel wasn't holding out any hope on that front. Castiel found that he cherished the days when Dean was there when he woke up, it spoke of the trust that the younger man had in him, not to hurt him, trusted him when he was his most vulnerable.

“You've been staring for a while,” Dean's voice brings him out of his memories and he starts and realizes, that, yes he is staring but can't stop

“Sorry,” he says, standing straight and Dean smiles at him and pats the sofa next to him.

“Not saying that I mind,” the other says and Castiel swears he's flirting, especially when he receives a wink and stumbles a bit in surprise. Dean had been quite the ladies man before all of this, hell, he would sleep with anything willing really, male or female. Castiel had been on the receiving end of his flirtations back in the day, most people had, but he hadn't seen that spark in the other man's eyes in a long time. So he finds himself smiling back and taking a seat next to Dean, and is surprised further when the younger man leans against him, his head on Castiel's shoulder, an arm around his waist. Castiel reaches up and rests his hand against Dean's head and starts to run his fingers through his hair when the other doesn't pull away. This is the first time he's been able to do this, Dean usually stays to the other side of the couch and Castiel feels pride swell in his chest for the other man.

“Thank you,” he hears some time later as the credits start to roll on the screen and his hand stops.

“For what?” he asks and Dean pulls away to look him in the eye, another landmark that Castiel files away, usually Dean will look in the direction of his eyes, but never head on.

“For all of this,” Dean says, waiving a hand at himself and the room, “I know I'm not the easiest person to live with and they're right, I probably deserve to be in a home, but I do appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Dean,” Castiel says cupping his cheek and the other man only flinches slightly, “I'm happy to do it, you don't deserve to be in a home, you deserve to be cared for, you lived through hell.”

“So did they,” Dean protests and Castiel sighs and shakes his head.

“A very different hell Dean,” he says quietly and rests his forehead against the other mans and wipes a tear away when it falls down his cheek.

“I hate this,” is the response and Dean's head finds it's way back to Castiel's chest and the elder of the two resumes his hair stroking.

“I know you do Dean, but I'm going to help you get through it,” Castiel promises and drops a kiss on the top of his head and prays that tomorrow will be another good day.

**Author's Note:**

> If there is any interest, I might continue and work to make him better and put these two in a relationship.


End file.
